


Glowing Blue is My Weakness

by Zangoose



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders (mentioned) - Freeform, Drunken night, F/M, Nowhere near canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:39:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zangoose/pseuds/Zangoose
Summary: Hawke finds herself at Fenris' place, not entirely sure what she's looking for. But she finds it.
Has no real place in canon, just a nice sensual fic with a happy Fenris for once.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the fact that boys glowing blue in the heat of battle is indeed my weakness, and so my poor Hawke has to deal with it as well. But yeah, wrote this a while ago before I'd even made it to Act 2 and I'm too lazy to fix it so don't expect it to make sense canonically.

Hawke was drunk, pounding on Fenris’ door.

“Open up, you Tevinter bastard!”

The elf opened the door with an exasperated look, only for Josseline to fall down, as her weight had been on the door. For a moment, Fenris stood there in shock, not exactly sure if he should try to help her up or not. Then he heard her begin to sob quietly on the floor.

He knelt down and tried to get her to sit up.

“Hawke…”

“What’s the point?” She slurred and limply fell into his grasp. “Nothing I do will ever be good enough.”

“Let’s get you inside…” She responded with only a sniffle and a nod. With all his strength, he pulled her into a stand, holding her arm around his neck to support her. 

Halfway through the main room, she moved off of him and stood silently. Hawke held her arms close and kept her eyes down. Fenris reached out to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away.

“I’m fine.”

He crossed his arms. “Clearly you’re not.”

She turned her head away so he couldn’t see her face. “I just had a little too much to drink.” She swore under her breath and turned for the door. “I don’t know why I even came here…”

Fenris stepped in front of her. When she stopped but didn’t say anything, he groaned. “Look, you obviously came here for a reason. And I can’t let you go back out there alone at this time of night. Someone might attack you.”

“We both know, drunk or not, I can take care of myself,” she sneered.

“I was more worried for the potential attacker’s safety.”

Try as she might, Hawke failed to suppress a laugh. She finally lifted her head to look at Fenris. He had a small, soft smile on his face.

“That’s more like it.”

She attempted to playfully slap him, but lost her balance mid swing. Fenris grabbed her with lightning fast reflexes, holding her close. He could smell the alcohol on her breath, but could also smell the soft flowery scent of her hair. Hawke stared into his eyes for a moment, then scoffed and averted her gaze but made no attempt to move away.

“Have I ever mentioned how unfair it is that you’re taller than me? You’re an elf for Andraste’s sake.”

Fenris let out a deep chuckle, one that Josseline could feel from his chest. All she could do was pray to the Maker that her face wasn’t as red as it felt, though she could always blame the alcohol. He released his grip, and she reluctantly pulled away.

What was she doing? A few hours ago she was desperately trying to convince Anders that he was worth her time. Why did she run straight to Fenris when Anders pushed her away? Of course she’d flirted with him before, but she flirted with everyone. And she couldn’t say she hadn’t ever thought of him and how far his tattoos went… Not to mention the rush of warmth that filled her stomach every time he flew past her in battle, the lyrium of his tattoos burning a bright blue as he took out a bandit swinging for her… 

Isabella’s teasing echoed in her ears. You and those boys who glow blue… Hawke had vehemently denied it, but now that it had been pointed out, she couldn’t stop connecting all the moments she was most attracted to Anders or Fenris to the heat of battle, when both men glowed blue with magic. She couldn’t stop thinking of either man fighting off slavers with righteous fury. Fenris diving ahead of her into battle, taking out anyone who might get too close without her noticing; Anders healing her from the brink of exhaustion.

“...Hawke?”

She spun around, suddenly aware of Fenris’ voice coming from behind her. He stood atop the stairs with a bottle of wine in his hands.

“Yes?”

“I asked you if you wanted to join me. Only a few bottles of this are left.” He cracked a wry grin at her. “It’d be a shame for me to have to drink them all alone.”

“Last time I saw one of those, you threw it at a wall.”

He laughed. “I promise I’ll let you hold it.”

She relaxed where she stood and gave him a smile. “Deal.”

Hawke remembered Fenris leaning over her on the bench, trying to get the wine bottle from her grasp, drunk laughter coming from both of them. Then the laughter stopped, the wine bottle fell from her grasp and onto the ground. Fenris had his arms around her. She moved her arms around him. She was warm from the wine and the fire, but his body pressed up against her was even warmer. His kiss moved from her mouth to her neck and it was all she could to stay upright on the bench.

When he pulled away and stood, she let out a sad moan. His hand dragged from her elbow to her hand, pulling her into a stand as well, where he pulled her close again. She stumbled against him, desperately trying to get back to his lips, but he grinned devilishly as he began walking backwards. She followed, a drunken laugh escaping her as he spun her around and pressed her down onto the bed.

That’s where her memory blurs. She remembers his lips against her neck, the warmth of his hands on her skin. She remembers the feeling of his bare chest pressed against her’s, but she can’t remember when either of their clothes came off. She can’t remember what came first, the feeling of his hand brushing the sweaty hair from her face or the way his back muscles moved under her tight grip. She remembers the feel of her hands in his hair, and the faint glow from his tattoos as her mind blanked with pleasure. She remembers the way he smelled of sweat and wine and his distinct musk. She remembered the taste of him against her lips, and the craving to taste more.

But when she awoke the next morning, the first thing she remembered the sound of his whisper against her ear as she fell asleep tangled in his arms. She didn’t know what he had said, but she longed to hear him say anything as she lay there in his bed, his arms around her waist and his nose nestled in her hair. Hawke rubbed her thumb over the lines on his hands and wrists, still wanting to follow every single one of them to where they ended. Movement against her back and a purr at her neck made her stop.

“Good morning, ser Hawke.” Fenris gripped her tighter as she tried to turn herself to look at him. He placed soft kisses against her shoulder and neck, drawing a small laugh from her. “How did you sleep?”

She nestled herself further into the spooning. “I can hardly remember even being asleep.”

“Oh? And what can you remember?” His grip loosened as he moved to be able to see her face. She took the opportunity to roll herself just enough to catch his mouth in a kiss.

“I remember how glad I was to stumble to your door last night.”

Fenris grinned. “I’m glad you did too.”

Hawke let out a laugh. “I can feel just how glad you are.”

“Can you now?” He kissed her again. “Perhaps we should go over the events of last night again.”

“Perhaps we should.”


End file.
